


I.O.U.

by Konfessor2U



Series: Advent Calendar for Facebook prompts from Sherlockian Lovers page [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar, Choosing a Gift, Christmas Party, Day 2, Facebook prompts, Gift Giving, IOU, M/M, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choosing a gift for the most important person in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I.O.U.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Jestem Ci winien](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706935) by [KittensAndRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittensAndRage/pseuds/KittensAndRage)



What do you get for the most important person in the world?

Every item that Sherlock saw in adverts and displayed in the shop windows just didn’t seem like enough. John had _saved_ him in every sense of the word and buying him a new electric razor or pointless tool kit for Christmas seemed to belittle their relationship.

He was new to this gift giving thing, and he found that the stress of having to choose a nice and meaningful gift for John, his John, was oppressive. What if he got it wrong?

Heaving a terrible sigh, he slumped back in his armchair, legs sprawled out in front of him and arms crossed over his chest. He sat for hours brainstorming the possible gifts he could buy for John, each one sounded more ridiculously cliché than the last.

When his eye caught sight of an apple sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, he sat up straight as an arrow, lips curling into a wide, devilish grin.

 

* * *

 

Everyone clapped and cheered when Sherlock finished playing his violin rendition of “Silent Night” and he gave a little bow. Their little gathering wasn't much but everyone who mattered was there. Detective Inspector Lestrade was ladling hot mulled cider into glass mugs with reindeer antlers as handles. He passed them to Molly and Mrs. Hudson who were chatting quietly and picking at the cheese and cracker platter in the kitchen.

John sat in his chair nursing his beer, staring off into space, watching the Christmas lights around the fireplace blink randomly. He jumped a little when Sherlock sat on the arm of the chair and leaned casually against the back. This was closer than the two normally got and John cast a weary glance back at their friends to see that no one was paying them any mind.

“For you,” Sherlock presented him with a small stack of what looked to be business cards held together in a bundle by red ribbon.

John was speechless for a moment, frozen in place and not sure what to say. They hadn’t talked about getting gifts for each other, and while this pile of cards didn’t look like much of a present, just that fact that Sherlock thought about it was enough.

John cautiously took the gift from Sherlock’s long graceful fingers. “Uh… thank you, Sherlock. I didn’t--”

“It’s fine, John.” Sherlock smiled down at him and pointed at the cards again.

Pulling the end of the red ribbon to undo the bow, he saw that the first card was signed “From Sherlock” in long loopy letters, the script rather effeminate for a man’s, but it was Sherlock after all. Not normal. John almost laughed out loud about what the second card said.

_I.O.U._

_One day free from body parts in the refrigerator._

And the next:

_I.O.U_

_One home cooked dinner._

Hell, he didn’t even know that Sherlock could cook. He was surprised to say the least, especially since Sherlock barely ate anything. Why was there a need to cook?

_I.O.U._

_A song composed just for you, written by me._

John’s heart rate increased just a little at that one. As much as John hated the screeching of that violin when Sherlock was in a bad mood and no less, at 2 am, it would be exceedingly romantic if Sherlock were to write a tune just for him. John could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks, thinking himself silly for assuming that was how his flat mate felt. But he did write the card.

The doctor quickly shuffled though the rest of the cards, all of them seemingly regular promises. Clean the flat, a night watching crap telly with John, a night out at the pub, a promise to watch all of the Doctor Who episodes with John, one day where Sherlock will use his own computer instead of John’s (and not read his emails). He nearly dropped the whole stack of cards, stopping on a particularly suggestive one.

 

_I.O.U._

_A kiss on the lips._

John stole a glance up at Sherlock still leaning comfortably on the back of his chair. The detective wasn’t looking at him but he could see the beginnings of the smile pulling at the corners of Sherlock’s mouth.

John shuffled the cards around some more before straightening the pile and reapplying the bow. He stood and put the stack in his back pocket, he didn't need anyone pick that up and reading them. 

“Cheeky bastard.” He said playfully as he walked past Sherlock and into the kitchen for another, much needed beer.


End file.
